They that do drink till they nod and wink, Even as good fellows should do, They shall not miss to have the bliss That good ale hath brought them to. And all poor souls that scour black bowls, And them hath lustily trolled, God save the lives of them and their wives, Whether they be young or old! Back and side, &c.
A Ryght Pithy, Pleasaunt and merie Comedie: Intytuled _Gammer gurtons Nedle_: Played on Stage, not longe ago in Christes _Colledge in Cambridge_.
Imprented at London in Fleetestreat beneth the Conduit at the signe of S. John Evangelist by Thomas _Colwell_.
[_Reduced facsimile of the Title-page of "Gammer Gurton's Needle" from the British Museum Copy._]]
A RIGHT PITHY, PLEASANT, AND MERRY COMEDY, ENTITLED GAMMER GURTON'S NEEDLE. PLAYED ON STAGE NOT LONG AGO IN CHRIST'S COLLEGE IN CAMBRIDGE. MADE BY MR. S., M.A. IMPRINTED AT LONDON IN FLEET STREET, BENEATH THE CONDUIT, AT THE SIGN OF ST. JOHN EVANGELIST, BY THOMAS COLWELL.
The Names of the Speakers in this Comedy:
DICCON, THE BEDLAM HODGE, GAMMER GURTON'S SERVANT TIB, GAMMER GURTON'S MAID GAMMER GURTON COCK, GAMMER GURTON'S BOY DAME CHAT DOCTOR RAT, THE CURATE MASTER BAILY DOLL, DAME CHAT'S MAID SCAPETHRIFT, MASTER BAILY'S SERVANT MUTES
As Gammer Gurton with many a wide stitch Sat piecing and patching of Hodge her man's breech, By chance or misfortune, as she her gear toss'd, In Hodge's leather breeches her needle she lost. When Diccon the Bedlam had heard by report That good Gammer Gurton was robbed in this sort, He quietly persuaded with her in that stound Dame Chat, her dear gossip, this needle had found; Yet knew she no more of this matter, alas! Than knoweth Tom, our clerk, what the priest saith at mass. Hereof there ensued so fearful a fray, Mas. Doctor was sent for, these gossips to stay, Because he was curate, and esteemed full wise; Who found that he sought not, by Diccon's device. When all things were tumbled and clean out of fashion, Whether it were by fortune, or some other constellation, Suddenly the needle Hodge found by the pricking. And drew it out of his buttock, where he felt it sticking. Their hearts then at rest with perfect security, With a pot of good ale they struck up their plaudity.
_Diccon._ Many a mile have I walked, divers and sundry ways, And many a good man's house have I been at in my days; Many a gossip's cup in my time have I tasted, And many a broach and spit have I both turned and basted, Many a piece of bacon have I had out of their balks, In running over the country, with long and weary walks; Yet came my foot never within those door cheeks, To seek flesh or fish, garlick, onions, or leeks, That ever I saw a sort in such a plight As here within this house appeareth to my sight. There is howling and scowling, all cast in a dump, With whewling and puling, as though they had lost a trump. Sighing and sobbing, they weep and they wail; I marvel in my mind what the devil they ail. The old trot sits groaning, with alas and alas! And Tib wrings her hands, and takes on in worse case. With poor Cock, their boy, they be driven in such fits, I fear me the folks be not well in their wits. Ask them what they ail, or who brought them in this stay, They answer not at all, but "alack!" and "wellaway!" When I saw it booted not, out at doors I hied me, And caught a slip of bacon, when I saw none spied me, Which I intend not far hence, unless my purpose fail, Shall serve me for a shoeing horn to draw on two pots of ale.